tonight i sat as i watched friends lives fall apart and come together over love. over a glass of wine. over fear and hate and sorrow.

i sat, mostly silent, hesitant to ever share my own stories of love and fear and hate and sorrow.

and when it was time to go home, i went home alone, wishing for hand from california to guide me back, safely, to my bed and say goodnight. but instead i recited the promises that i have abandoned. faithfulness, love, true.

i miss your kisses and your eyes and your gentleness, i do. i miss your giggle and your bright face when i walked into the room. i miss your wit and your puns and your compassion.

but in this season and in this time it feels imperative to be alone. i left you, full of regret and wishing that i didn't have to and the one who brought me home has left again. but it seems so important to sit in my own thoughts and slowly make my coffee in the morning. only to drink it alone as i recite psalm 23 one more time. "i shall not want".

but i do want. i do want to be safe, and i want to have never left a beating heart hurting and i want mine to not be so acquainted with sorrow. i do want to know how i will pay rent again and to understand the coming and going of the tides. i do want joy.

you are coming and going with the tides. you are going. i have left. when a raven dies, its murder never flies over the spot where he died again. please tell me that doesn't mean we won't meet again. so much of my hope in the world right now is rested in the golden threads woven in your heart.

this season is hard and weak and lonely. in the best way, it is lonely. in the best way, it is honest. i carry a heart full of regret.